


If I knew it all then, would I do it again?

by yasminkhxns



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bullying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Thasmin if you squint, aka a sad one, mentions of bullying, sad with a sort of happy ending, the doctor trying her best because she's a sweetheart, yep its one of those fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22657519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yasminkhxns/pseuds/yasminkhxns
Summary: Yaz is only pulled from her own mind by the lights suddenly flickering on overhead. In her confusion she lifts her head to find the Doctor standing in the doorway. Mistake number one, she looked up. At the sight of tears freely falling from Yaz’s eyes and the dark circles that reside underneath, the Doctor’s expression instantly turns to one of worry as she falls into the seat next to her.“Yaz? What’s wrong?”---The nightmares brought up during their adventure against Zellin catch up with Yaz.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan
Comments: 41
Kudos: 152





	If I knew it all then, would I do it again?

**Author's Note:**

> SO THAT EPISODE SHOT ME RIGHT IN THE HEART. Look there was no way I wasn't gonna write a fic about YAZ'S BACKSTORY BC FUCK YEAH BABY WE GOT IT AND OH MY LORDDDDD DO I WANNA HUG OUR GIRL AND NEVER LET GO.
> 
> i've only read through once and it's 1am so i apologise for any grammar errors
> 
> also they are in the tags but just in case you didn't see:
> 
> TW for descriptions of suicidal thoughts, mental health issues and bullying
> 
> stay safe people <3

_“Do it right this time._

_I won’t be calling anyone._

_No point._

_You’re weak. You run._

_Nobody’s coming, Yaz.”_

The click of the kettle and the rumbling sound of boiling water brings Yaz out of her daze, hand idly wrapping around the kettle’s handle as she pours water into her mug, watching as the liquid darkens while the teabag infuses, twisting and swirling through the water. She can’t stop staring as she runs the spoon through the tea, eyes glued to the movement of it as it clinks against ceramic, her mind running away from her just like she ran away from home three years ago. 

Yaz removes the teabag, lightening the beverage with a glug of milk and sits down at the kitchen table. It’s always that same line that wakes her up. The lonely expanse of the empty road, nothingness surrounding her for miles. Just her. On her own. With her dark thoughts.

_“You’re alone in the dark.”_

Tonight is one of those nights. She won’t sleep again, instead choosing to sit alone in the kitchen and sip a comforting cup of tea. She hasn’t even bothered to turn the lights on and the TARDIS hasn’t even done it automatically. Perhaps she can sense her mood.

Ever since Zellin pulled her fears to the forefront of her mind, Yaz has barely slept. Her sleep filled with nightmares of an uncaring sister, a failed, depressed runway — attempts to do something stupid. Those were the worst. Thoughts of what could’ve been, thoughts of what couldn’t. 

She can feel it, in her head still. She feels low, unimportant — her lack of self-worth seeping in harsher than usual. 

Yaz sips her tea and scolds her tongue with a silent curse, and that tiny little action is what breaks the dam. She feels something wet run down her cheek and only then realises she’s been welling up for the past five minutes, her own carelessness being the thing to set her off.

_“You’re so stupid, Yaz.”_ The Izzy in her head says, _“No wonder your grades are so shit. Imagine being as much of a failure as Yaz is.”_ she wounds, the laughs of her class echoing around her mind, _“I don’t why you bother coming to school if you’re so dumb. You may as well just leave today and never come back.”_ she pushes. _“No one would miss you.”_ Was the final straw.

That’s exactly what Yaz had done, and she regrets it now, but sometimes she’ll go through episodes of itchy feet and she hates herself for it. Because in reality, isn’t she still running? She runs away with the Doctor every week and her family has no idea. One adventure going completely wrong could mean she never goes home again. What would the Doctor tell her family — would she even tell them at all?

Yaz is only pulled from her own mind by the lights suddenly flickering on overhead. In her confusion she lifts her head to find the Doctor standing in the doorway. Mistake number one, she looked up. At the sight of tears freely falling from Yaz’s eyes and the dark circles that reside underneath, the Doctor’s expression instantly turns to one of worry as she falls into the seat next to her.

“Yaz? What’s wrong?” 

People seeing her cry is one of the things Yaz hates the most. It shows weakness, and weakness gets you hurt. School showed her that. But the Doctor seeing her cry? The amazing, incredible, impossible Doctor? It feels so much worse. So Yaz quickly wipes her eyes on the too big sleeves of her jumper with a sniff and looks anywhere but the Time Lord.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” she lies, voice wobbly. It’s a–

“Rubbish lie.” the Doctor states, her tone so soft that Yaz is desperate to look her way. To take in what she knows will be a comforting smile and inviting eyes, but she can’t, because if she does — she’ll spill it all. “Yaz,” the Doctor pauses, “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“Like you ever talk to us.” Yaz bites and she knows she’s not being fair. This isn’t about the Doctor right now and she knows that the snap was unnecessary, but in reality she’s just using the Doctor’s own tactic against her, she’s deflecting. It’s the same tactic she used to use against her own parents in the past.

“Yaz I–”

“Sorry.” Yaz apologises, eyes burning into her mug, knuckles white with the tightness of her grip. “Sorry I just, it’s harder than it used to be to open up to you.” Yaz says quietly, honestly — her heart hurting with every word and when she steals a brief glance at her friend she knows both her hearts are clenching too.

The Doctor sighs despondently, a form of regret rolling off her in her waves that Yaz can practically feel crashing against her. The glumness of the air surrounding both of them is what forces her to look up and see the battle raging behind the Time Lord’s eyes. Yaz knew all too well from first hand experience the Doctor’s own struggles opening up to them, and she is feeling that struggle herself now, especially as she looks into the eyes of the woman who’d saved her life in more ways than one — physically and emotionally.

She can see as the Doctor sits and watches her, scanning every one of her features in a way Yaz hasn’t seen her do in a while, that she’s debating in her mind what to do. Usually those gold flecked eyes can only hold her gaze for a moment before they’re looking anywhere but Yaz, or Ryan, or Graham. But not right now — now they are focusing on nothing but Yaz who finds herself locked in the gaze as she actually _lets_ a tear slip free right in the face of the Doctor. 

And that willingness perhaps, that tiny little start to opening up, _letting_ the Doctor see her cry, is exactly what is needed to cement the Doctor’s decision. Yaz sees it — sees the Doctor make up her mind, watches the clockwork of her age old mind click into place behind tired eyes. And it’s only then that she feels a gentle hand rest atop her own, and Yaz’s grip on her mug relaxes. 

“You can talk to me Yaz, and I _promise_ you I will always listen. I hate to see you upset, you have to know that. So if you need someone to talk to, I’m always here. I just– I can’t promise I’ll be able to give you the response you want right now, I’m not–” the Doctor’s face scrunches in a struggle for the words she’s looking for, but Yaz understands. 

“There’s too much on your mind, I get. I do. It’s like I can hear you thinking sometimes, Doctor. But… it’s reassuring enough to know I _can_ talk to you, and I can see that in your eyes. I know I can.”

“You can.” the Doctor whispers with a warm smile, her free hand coming up to gently wipe the lone tear from Yaz’s cheek. When the tear is wiped the hand pulls away from her face, but the quiet comfort of the one resting over her own is still there, and Yaz appreciates it more than she thinks the Doctor can ever know, the reassuring warmth of her palm giving her courage to talk.

“That immortal bloke, Zellin,” Yaz starts, “the nightmare he put in my head, it’s just brought back up a lot of old feelings that I think I’m struggling to cope with again.”

The Doctor’s head tilts to one side a little, her brow creasing in concentration, and Yaz knows she’s absorbing every word she speaks. It gives her the strength she needs to carry on. “You know I was bullied at school, yeah?” 

“Izzy Flint.” the Doctor frowns, the protectiveness of her tone sending a swell of warmth to Yaz’s chest. 

“Yeah, her.” Yaz clears her throat. “Well you know how I told Willa back in Bilehurst Cragg that I had the year from hell?” 

The Doctor nods.

“Well,” Yaz huffs in a way that’s a little too self-deprecating for the Doctor’s liking, so she pulls Yaz’s hand from the mug and twists hers underneath, their fingers interlinking as they rest on the table and she gives a comforting squeeze that has a quiet gasp falling from Yaz’s lips. “Well, I wasn’t kidding. It was literally the worst year of my life. I never spoke about how bad the bullying was, not to any of you I don’t think, but it was… _bad._ ” 

Yaz looks away from the Doctor, back down into her now tepid tea, taking a sip anyway with a slight grimace. Her gaze doesn’t leave the remaining liquid when she continues. “Everyday I’d get harassed — for my race, my religion, my looks, my grades, my sexuality. When I said Izzy turned the _whole_ class against me I meant it. People that were my friends suddenly weren’t because being my friend was too much of a liability.”

Yaz can feel a lump forming in her throat again but she pushes past it. “I tried _so_ hard to fade into the background but Izzy would _not_ let that happen. It ended up getting physical as well, that’s when I had to start using my clothes to hide bruises she and her friends would leave on me.” Another tear slips from the corner of her eye, but Yaz just lets it fall.

“Yaz, you can take a break if you want.” the Doctor speaks up, aware enough to know people have their limits and she doesn’t want Yaz pushing hers, but the younger woman just shakes her head. 

“No, it’s ok. I’m ok.” she lets out a breath and takes solace in the gentle squeeze of the Doctor’s hand in hers. “I closed myself off so much, Doctor.” Yaz looks up then, seeing the sudden tension in the Doctor’s shoulders and she knows the Time Lord has quickly realised this next part isn’t going to be just about Yaz, but they’re too deep in it now. She can’t force Yaz to stop when she’s admitting something so personal. “I pushed my family away. My mum and dad didn’t understand what was wrong with me, just thought I was a stroppy teenager looking for attention and that’s why my grades had slipped. No matter what they tried I just shut them out. I felt so alone but I didn’t want to burden them with my problems and at that point I wasn’t even out so I couldn’t tell them one of the main reasons why I was being bullied anyway.” 

It’s the Doctor who looks away then, and Yaz knows she’s relating. She hopes some of what she’s saying might _just_ get through to her friend that she's so fiercely worried about. 

“My sister was always looking out for me. We were at the same secondary school so she saw first hand what was happening to me. She was there for me as best she could be but she was only fourteen at the time and I refused to put my problems on her.” she swallows audibly. “So it got worse.”

* * *

_Today has been the worst yet. First, she was late to school because she could barely force herself out of bed, then as soon as she got to her first class after the brief freedom of tutor, Izzy was there. It’s like she had been ready and waiting for her, ready to tease and harass. It’s like she had been feeling particularly cruel today._

_By lunch time there was a post on Facebook outing Yaz. It had been shared by basically her entire year and more. People her sister was friends with. Her sister, who was always on her phone. Her sister had probably seen it. Which in Yaz’s mind, meant her parents would find out, then the rest of her family and then she would be kicked out for liking girls._

_It became too much when all people did was laugh her down the halls and push her around and today had felt like one of the worst of her life. She had never felt so worthless, so disposable, so terrified — because her big terrible secret was out._

_So now she’s sitting on her bed, a thousand thoughts running through her head, all of them bad, until one in particular sticks at the forefront of her mind._

_“Run away from it all.”_

_Yaz stands and makes her way over to her wardrobe and flings it open. She pulls out a jumper and a couple shirts, then moves to her chest of drawers to pull out a couple pairs of underwear. It’s barely anything but she doesn’t care, doesn’t expect to last that long, her thoughts only spiraling further when she dips into the drawer of her bedside table to pull out a couple packets of paracetamol, shoving them in her school bag. She hasn’t even bothered to take her exercise books or pencil case out, carelessly shoving them to the bottom of the bag. She changes out of her school uniform and heads for the door, plucking her fluffy coat off the hook by the door and pulling it on before taking one last look over her shoulder at a flat she isn’t sure she’ll see again. That’s when the voice in her head chooses to make itself known once more._

_“No one will miss you.”_

_It sounds like Izzy and she shakes her head, yanking the door open and heading out, the door shutting behind her with a slam._

_And then she runs._

_She makes it to the closest bus stop and rides it as far as it goes before getting off. She’s not really sure where she is, doesn’t care if she’s really honest. So she just walks and walks and_ **_walks_ ** _until her feet hurt but she just keeps walking, pushing through the ache pulsing through her legs — she’d felt worse from Izzy and her friends._

_It’s another hour at least before she stops, sitting down cross legged on the side of the road and shucking her coat off her shoulders to let the breeze cool her down._

_When Yaz looks around, she quickly realises she has absolutely no clue where she is. The bus journey was a good hour, enough to take her out of Sheffield and she’d walked for God knows how long. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was away. Away from it all. Away from her horrible school and horrendous bullies, away from her family that were probably about to reject her anyway._

_So as Yaz sits there, the day slowly fading away, similar to any hope she has for a future — she cries. She cries until her eyes are red raw and her throat feels like razors from the way she screamed into the emptiness. Her chest feels hollow and she feels like she doesn’t deserve to be saved and she opens her backpack at least 10 times to look at the pill packets residing inside before the cop shows up._

_Yaz keeps her head down, hopes in a way she_ **_is_ ** _there for her, but also that she isn’t. So when the police officer walks up to her and asks:_

_“Hitchhiking?”_

_Yaz replies, “No.” Because she isn’t. She doesn’t want to be with anyone, let alone cramped in a car with a stranger. She just wants to be alone._

_But the officer doesn’t let her be alone, and she’s secretly thankful, but she won’t let her know that. “Just taking in the view?”_

_“Not breaking the law, am I?” Yaz retorts, trying to be standoffish, trying to seem like another helpless kid and hopefully, the officer might just leave her alone._

_But this cop is different. “No. Where are you off to?”_

_It’s a question Yaz doesn’t have an answer for, so she simply responds, “Away.”_

_“It’s good there.” the officer quips and Yaz decides that’s enough. No more trying to save her. No one cares she’s gone anyway, why should this random police officer give a shit?_

_“Leave me alone.” she responds dully._

_“Can’t do that.”_

_“Why not?” Yaz asks in the same tone._

_“People are worried about you.” she claims, and it makes Yaz angry. Because how would she know? How would she know that people care? What she needs to know is that people don’t, or she wouldn’t feel like this._

_“No, they’re not.”_

_“Your sister is.” That gives Yaz pause. Her sister. Sonya. Sonya who almost definitely saw the post but is still — worried? “That’s why she called us.”_

_Sonya — called? Sonya still cares? After the post? After everything?_

_“She’s worried you’ve left and you’re gonna do something stupid.” Yaz’s mind instantly goes to the pills in her bag. It's like Sonya knew, it feels like the police officer in front of her knows exactly what she’s hiding. The officer carries on, “I’ve heard things are tough. Getting bullied at school, grades have gone a bit wonky, parents don’t get what’s up.” ‘Has Sonya really seen this much?’ Is the first thought to cross Yaz’s mind. Had her little sister sussed it out so easily?_

_“You must be feeling pretty trapped and alone.”_

_“I’m feeling way more than that.” Yaz responds as she sits back down. The officer’s presence oddly comforting in her hopelessness._

_They both sit, and they both continue to talk until the officer pulls her back from the brink just enough that Yaz doesn’t feel like this is the end of everything. The officer gives Yaz a piece of hope, and she latches onto it and doesn’t let go._

_She holds onto it, all the way home and into her sister’s arms where they burst into bone wracking sobs and it feels like a start. Like she’s stepped off the path that leads into the dark and empty tunnel, onto the one that is cloudy, but the sun is shining at the end. And for the first time in a long while, she thinks maybe she wants to get there._

* * *

By the time Yaz’s finishes there’s a small puddle on the table and her eyes feel a little sore and puffy, but she feels better for it, and better for talking to the Doctor about it — though she’s not quite done.

“So, those thoughts I used to have, the ones I’m having now they’re not as bad as that,” she shakes her head, “they’ve never been as bad as that since but the feelings of worthlessness and loneliness and unimportance? They’re the ones that are sort of getting to me again, and I’m dreaming of it more than usual. The nightmares of it had faded a lot but now it’s like they’re back full force because of _him_ . I’ve come _so_ far since then I refuse to fall back into that head space.”

Yaz looks up then, as deep as she can into the Doctor’s eyes, and their gaze doesn’t break for a second. “I’m just scared that I will and I won’t be able to stop it.” 

The Doctor’s face softens instantly, a small but sure smile pulling at the corner of her lips. It’s then that Yaz realises just how grateful she is that her friend has sat quietly and listened with unending patience as she confided in her.

“Yasmin Khan,” the Doctor’s free hand rests over the top of Yaz’s, cocooning it in a reassuring warmth that only the Doctor can possibly provide, “You’re one of the strongest people I know.” the Doctor assures with such earnest, that Yaz can’t help but believe every single word. Yaz’s smile grows to mirror the Doctor’s own, and though the Time Lord’s response is short, it is endlessly caring. Yaz feels as though perhaps a little more comfort would’ve helped, but she doesn’t blame the Doctor in the slightest. 

Yaz knows her friend is going through her own struggles, she’d already told her that she can’t promise she’ll get the full response she wants, and that’s ok. Because Yaz knows, deep down, just how much the Doctor cares for her, and how much she cares for the Doctor, even if it has been tough between them recently. 

“Thank you, Doctor. For listening. It means a lot.”

“Always.” the Doctor responds softly. 

Yaz stands then, wiping her eyes with a small laugh. “God, I must look a right mess.”

“Your eyes are pretty red, it’s like you’ve eaten a chili that’s too hot for you to handle.”

“Doctor!” Yaz laughs genuinely then, perking up even more at the sight of a real smile on the Doctor’s face. They were rare right now, so she treasures every single one. “I’m Pakistani, there are no chilis I can’t handle. I’d like to see you try a ghost pepper.” Yaz teases, “Then you’d be the one looking a mess.”

By the hitch in her brow, Yaz knows she’s gotten through to her friends competitive streak. “Yasmin Khan — you’re on.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Yaz ensures as she puts her mug on the side, she’ll wash it in the morning. 

A comfortable silence falls over them then, the Doctor awkwardly standing with her hands in her pockets as Yaz tries to stifle a yawn.

“Looks like you should get back to bed.” the Doctor suggests, nodding to the door with an encouraging smile. 

“Yeah, I suppose I should at least _try_ and get some more sleep. Thank you again, Doctor ” 

The Doctor nods in reply as Yaz makes her way to the door, stopping just before the exit and turning back around. The Doctor’s face scrunches in confusion at her pause. “You alright, Yaz?”

“Yeah,” she nods, “I just–” Yaz clears her throat, “Doctor? Do you think… do you think we could have a hug?” Yaz blurts out before she can stop herself. She feels silly for asking but after her out pour to the Doctor she really feels like she could do with one. 

The initial quiet panics Yaz, she thinks she’s crossed a line, ruined a good moment between them, but just as she's about to back track, the Doctor speaks. “Yeah. Yeah ok.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel uncomf–”

“I want to.” the Doctor states confidently and Yaz steps forward, arms wrapping around the Doctor’s middle as she feels ones curl around her shoulders. They both practically melt into the hug, taking in the warmth and comfort their bodies offer each other and Yaz closes her eyes. She breathes in the scent of tea, engine, oil and — her own coconut shampoo? She knows she’ll keep that discovery to herself, she’ll never be mad at her friend for using it, especially not if it left her hair feeling as soft as it did against the skin of her cheek. She feels the Doctor bury her face in Yaz’s own hair, fingers wrapping around the fabric of her jumper and clinging tight.

The Doctor is lonely, that much is obvious, the closeness of their hug cementing it, and it’s then that Yaz decides, no matter how long it takes, she hopes she can eventually be the police officer that saved her to the Doctor.

**Author's Note:**

> would love to know your thoughts on this!
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!! <3


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